


Boats + Robots + Reunions (+ Paper Clip)

by Kerkerian



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016), Riptide (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Established Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, M/M, Papa Jack, Some Fluff, Team as Family, Temporary Amnesia, Whump, injuries, logical family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24719668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerkerian/pseuds/Kerkerian
Summary: MacGyver's in serious trouble. Luckily for him, there just are no coincidences...
Relationships: Cody Allen/Nick Ryder, Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 85





	Boats + Robots + Reunions (+ Paper Clip)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Sadly, neither "MacGyver" nor "Riptide" are mine...
> 
> It helps if you're familiar with both shows, but it isn't strictly necessary. Riptide is one of my all time favourites, it ran from 1984 till 1986 (the original MacGyver first aired in 1985). =)  
> This is how Wikipedia summarizes it: "Cody Allen (Perry King) and Nick Ryder (Joe Penny) are two former Army buddies who decided to open the Pier 56 Detective Agency (later known as the Riptide Detective Agency) in Los Angeles, California. Realizing that computers and technology play a major role in many investigations, they recruit the help of Murray "Boz" Bozinsky (Thom Bray), a brilliant but nerdy scientist and computer hacker whom they met while serving in the military. The team operate out of Cody's boat, the Riptide, moored at Pier 56 at King Harbor Marina. The men have several other tools in their fight against crime and injustice. These included Murray's robot, The Roboz (which, unlike most television robots, does not speak); Nick's aging Sikorsky S-58T helicopter, The Screaming Mimi, which Nick occasionally used for his sideline business, aerial harbor tours; and Cody's speedboat, the Ebb Tide."
> 
> Here's the intro of season 1 so you'll get a visual: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYnATPozpcU
> 
> As for the MacGyver reboot: what can I say, Lucas Till is poetry in motion...

The Riptide was on her way out to the Channel Islands, going at a leisurely pace. She had just been dry-docked for a few weeks during her annual overhaul, which never sat well with Cody. He had gone to the shipyard every other day to look after his old girl, sometimes with Nick in tow, sometimes on his own, glad when he finally got her back. On the first night, he didn't even pick up the book he was reading, he just lay there, listening to the soft sounds of the water against the hull, and radiated contentment. Nick couldn't subdue a grin, but he didn't say anything. The classic yacht was their home, after all, and he was glad to be back as well, in his own bed instead of a room at Straightaways, and with his own stuff.

On the following morning, they had cast off early, planning on a few days off the grid, for some fishing and paddling.

After a while, Nick joined Cody in the wheelhouse, handing him a fresh mug of coffee; the sun was just coming up, the sky was cloudless and the sea rather calm.

Cody sighed: “A perfect day,” he said. “Is it time for a beer yet?”

Nick scratched his neck: “It's six thirty a.m.,” he said. “Maybe finish your coffee first?”

Grinning, Cody nodded: “Just messing with you.”

“I know.” Nick smiled into his mug. He loved how much Cody enjoyed himself just by being out here.

“I smell garlic,” Cody said. “What did you make?”

“Just some marinade. Un po' di aglio marinato in una salsa di succo di limone.”

“Which is...”

“Garlic marinated in a lemon juice sauce. Figured it might go well with the fish.”

“Sounds good. A new recipe?”

“Yeah. It's from the book you gave me.”

“Ricette dalla Puglia?”

“Sì.”

Cody beamed: the book had been a lucky find at a local used book seller. Since Nick's grandma had originated from Puglia in southern Italy, it had been the perfect gift.

“What's that?” Nick said all of a sudden, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes. “There's something in the water. Two o'clock.”

Cody reached for his binoculars and had a look: “It's a body,” he said, immediately altering their course. Nick was already on the stairs down to the fantail. Once Cody had brought the Riptide to a stop as close to the floater as possible, Nick tossed the life belt into the water, then he jumped in and swam the short distance. As he came closer, he saw that it was a young man; he was pale and looked inanimate. When Nick touched him however, taking a hold of his shoulders in order to pull him over to the boat, he realized that the guy was alive.

“Cody,” Nick shouted, reaching for the life belt. “He's breathing!”

“Hold on!” Cody pulled them back to the boat; together, they heaved him onto the fantail, then Nick climbed aboard too. It took a moment to regain their breaths, a vivid reminder that they weren't in their thirties anymore, then Cody crouched down next to the guy, checking if he was indeed still breathing, which he was. When they turned him onto his side, he eventually coughed up some water without coming to; his pulse was slow, and his shirt was bloody. The skin around his left eye as well as his cheek was red and swollen, as if someone hat hit him, and hard, and there was what looked like a cut on his left temple, right underneath his hairline. Most of the blood appeared to have been washed away by the water.

“Let's get him below,” Nick said. They carried him inside and into Murray's old room, which was now a guest bedroom, where Cody took off his shoes and began to peel his sodden clothes off of him while Nick went to get towels and their first aid kit.

Cody tried to rouse the young man while he worked, talking to him; at first, he didn't get a reaction, but when he and Nick carefully lifted him up in order to pull his shirt off, he gave a small groan.

“Here's more blood,” Nick said unexpectedly. It turned out that the guy had a wound on the back of his head, which they hadn't noticed before; other than the cut on his temple, it was bleeding sluggishly.

“He can't have been in the water very long,” Cody said in an undertone. “He's not cold enough, and his lips aren't even blue.”

"I didn't see any ships nearby, did you?"

"No."

"Judging from the stubble he's got going on, he hasn't shaved in at least two days,” Nick said. “I think. At least this is what you looked like after two days when we were his age.”

Cody snorted: “I never got to go without shaving for more than two, if I remember correctly, because someone kept complaining.”

Nick grinned impishly: “Only to avoid stubble burn.”

“Yeah, right,” Cody muttered, but he was grinning as well.

The next surprise came once the shirt was off: the guy's entire torso was black and blue.

“Someone did a number on him,” Cody said softly. “Rest of him probably looks the same.”

Nick nodded: “See those scars?”

“Yeah. Gunshot wounds. And that there on his arm looks like an old burn. But this is fresh.” Cody motioned towards what looked like a graze just above his left hip. The guy's wrists were bloody as well, as if he had been bound and had struggled against the bonds.

“Huh. He's just a kid! He doesn't look like someone who'd get involved with that kind of violence. Or any kind of violence.”

“He doesn't look like a soldier either.”

“Hm.”

They were silent for a moment.

“Okay,” Nick then said. “First things first.”

Cody peered at the wound: “Could be from a bullet. Probably needs stitches. It looks clean though.”

They proceeded to remove the stranger's clothes, then they wrapped him up in a large towel and a couple of warm blankets.

With Nick's help, Cody next bandaged the wound on his hip so it'd stop bleeding; the kid gasped a few times without really coming to.

When they began to turn him on his side in order to look at the wound on the back of his head, the kid gave another groan.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” Cody immediately asked, tapping him on the cheek. This elicited another bout of coughing, followed by the unsuccessful attempt to open his eyes.

“It's no use,” Cody eventually said. “I'm calling the Coast Guard, he needs to get to a hospital.”

At that, the kid tensed. With what looked like a gargantuan effort, he finally pried his eyes open a little: “No...,” he rasped; his voice was feeble and surprisingly deep. “Please. No. No Coast... Guard. No... hospital. 's not... safe.” His gaze was unfocused, and his eyes were already closing again by the time he had gotten the last word out.

Nick and Cody exchanged a look: “Yup,” Nick said. “Perfect day.”

The kid hadn't been coherent enough to answer any further questions and had lost consciousness again soon afterwards. Since he only seemed to be suffering from a mild hypothermia, they had made sure he was getting warm and had cared for both head wounds as best as they could, though they probably needed stitches as well. They had also bandaged his wrists and checked for other injuries, of which there were none, apart from the bruises all over his body. To be on the safe side, they had put him into the recovery position, since they couldn't be sure he didn't have a concussion, considering his injuries.

“I don't like this,” Cody muttered, once they were done. “We don't know anything about him, and he needs professional treatment. What if we've overlooked something, or he's bleeding internally?”

“Agreed.” Nick, who had gone to get into something dry in the meantime, folded his arms in front of his chest. “Maybe we should listen to our guts though.”

“Why, what does your gut tell you?”

“That we _shouldn't_ call the police, or the Coast Guard.”

“But what are we gonna do with him?”

“I dunno, man.” Nick rubbed his neck. “Look at him though. Does he seem like a thug to you?”

Cody shrugged: “No, but looks can be deceiving.”

For a moment, they were silent.

“What would we have done thirty years ago?” Nick then asked.

Cody considered this, his eyes still on their charge: “I dunno. We'd probably not have notified the Coast Guard, because Murray would already be checking any missing persons reports and whatnot.”

“Right.” They exchanged another look.

“I'mma give him a call.” Nick went to get his phone.

Cody stayed where he was, regarding the kid: he was scrawny but muscular, and he had something neat about him, even now. His clothes were of a good make as well. Maybe Nick was right: maybe they should listen to their guts.

Murray, who always loved a good challenge, was all ears when Nick told him what had happened and why they needed his help.

“Of course I'll check,” he said, giggling excitedly: “Just like old times, this is so boss!”

“Thanks, Boz,” Nick said, relieved. “Call me back?”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.” Murray sounded distracted already.

Cody and Nick decided to take the boat back to King Harbor nevertheless; it'd take them a good three hours to get there. Maybe they'd already know more by the time they arrived.

“I've googled how to recognize internal bleeding,” Cody said. “Basically, with everything he's got going on, he might be and we wouldn't be able to tell.”

Nick frowned, rubbing his neck: “I can't believe I'mma say this, but Dooley once told me that it also results in an increased heart rate. And something else that I can't remember.”

“Increased breathing rate,” Cody read from his phone.

“Yeah, that.”

“Why did you talk to _Dooley_ about something like that?”

“Remember when he got into a fistfight with that surfer?”

“Vaguely.”

“He was convinced he had ruptured something and... well, you know him. Wouldn't go to a doctor but kept yapping about it for three days straight.”

Cody grins: “Right. Didn't he stay with us, to be 'on the safe side'?”

“Yeah... Longest three days of my life.”

They laughed quietly.

“I'll go and stay with our guest,” Nick then said.

Cody nodded: “Probably best.” While Nick went back below, he headed up to the wheelhouse, started the engines and turned the Riptide around.

Nick sat down on the edge of the mattress, his phone in his hand: Murray had always been a hacker and was the CEO of one of the most prestigious computer companies in the world. Considering what he'd been able to do more than thirty years ago, when the internet per se hadn't even existed, Nick was confident that he'd find something.

An hour later, Murray still hadn't called. Nick was lost in thoughts when their charge suddenly moved, gasping violently, then began to retch. After a moment of comprehension, Nick grabbed the wastebasket (which was made of plastic, fortunately) and quickly shoved it under the young man's head with one hand, trying to support him with the other.

The poor guy threw up what was mostly bile, unable to stop heaving for quite a while afterwards. Nick put the wastebasket down and went to get a wet cloth and a glass of water. When he came back in, the kid was still crouching awkwardly, trembling, and his eyes were streaming.

Nick gently put the cloth on his neck: “Here, this should help.”

The kid flinched, but then he gradually relaxed. When he finally eased himself back onto his side, he looked wan and exhausted.

“Th'nks,” he croaked.

Nick regarded him sympathetically: “I'm Nick.”

The kid frowned, hesitating: “I... I don't...” A look of panic overcame him, and he began to breathe heavily: “I don't remember my name...”

“Easy,” Nick said, putting one hand on his back and rubbing gentle circles. “It'll come to you.”

From the way the kid's pupils looked, he had probably been drugged, which would explain a temporary memory loss. That, and the head wounds, probably. His pulse, which had initially been a little thready, seemed fine now though, and he had been breathing normally while he had been out.

“But... I don't remember anything.”

“You've been through a lot. Gotta give it time.”

The kid was trembling, but Nick kept talking to him quietly in order to soothe him, and he gradually calmed down somewhat.

“Are you in pain?” Nick eventually asked.

“Little. My head... 'n my hip... 's okay. Can take it.”

Nick was relieved that there was nothing else, and that the kid apparently was a rather tough cookie, despite appearances; his entire body had to feel as though he'd been hit by a truck. And yet- the idea of giving him any kind of pain reliever when they didn't know what else was currently in his blood stream didn't seem feasible, after all.

“You should drink something,” Nick said. “Think you can sit up a bit?”

The stranger pushed himself up with visibly shaking arms, and he grimaced as he did so, but he didn't make a sound.

Nick helped him with the glass; his patient however took only a few sips before shaking his head: “'s too much,” he managed before he began to retch again, bringing up what little he had swallowed. Afterwards, he sagged, trembling, and Nick took the cloth and wiped the sweat off his face, waiting until the worst was over.

The kid's skin didn't feel too cold anymore, on the contrary: he seemed a little feverish. Maybe he'd been before, but they hadn't noticed it because of his stint in the water, otherwise it must have come quickly. Nick didn't like any of this either; he needed to talk to Cody.

Right then however, Nick's phone began to buzz. He picked it up: “Yeah, Murray? Hang on a sec.”

Gently, he put his free hand on his charge's shoulder: “You still with me?” The kid didn't react.

Frowning, Nick went back to his phone.

“There is no match in any missing persons register, and no reports have been filed during the last few days which would meet the criteria,” Murray said, immediately cutting to the chase as he always did when he was concentrating, “also, no person that fits your description is currently being wanted by the police or any other federal agency. Do you want me to expand my search internationally?”

“No, thanks,” Nick said, getting to his feet. “Hang on a sec, Boz.”

He went up to the wheelhouse: “I've got Murray on the phone, he didn't find anything. And our patient isn't doing too well. He can't even keep some water down, he must be rather dehydrated by now, and he's feverish. Worst of all, he seems to have amnesia. He woke up earlier and was completely off his rocker. Now he's out again.”

Cody frowned: “So, Coast Guard after all?”

Nick shook his head: “Not sure about that. What if he's right and it isn't safe?”

“But what other options are there?”

“Guys,” Murray said. “How about you take him back to the mainland and find a doctor who'd treat him on the boat?”

“You say that as though it's easy,” Nick muttered. “Sure, Doc Harris would've done it without making any fuss. Nowadays, people are all so proper.”

“You're forgetting something,” Murray said, and it sounded as though he was grinning.

“What?”

“That my daughter's a vet.”

“Oh.”

“Right.”

“Now that sounds like one of those 80s movies-”

“I think it sounds like a brilliant idea!”

Murray giggled: “When will you be back?”

“Around ten.”

“Okay. I'll give her a call.”

“Murray- are you sure you want her to get involved? We still don't know if this could be dangerous-”

“But I'll be coming too, and I'll bring a security detail.”

“Oh. Okay, then. Thanks, Boz.”

“You're welcome. This is fun, guys! See you later!”

Cody and Nick looked at each other.

“One of these days, we should write a book.”

“Yeah. I sometimes forget that Murray's one of the upper crust now.”

“Yeah, but... he's still our old Boz. With benefits.”

Nick grinned: “Okay, I'll go back to our John Doe.”

“John? I dunno, he looks more like a... Jared to me.”

“Jared?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. I thought he looks like a... Dean.”

“Dean Doe doesn't work. Jared Doe sounds much better.”

Shaking his head, Nick disppeared down the stairs.

His patient hadn't moved in the meantime. He looked ill though, and he definitely did have a fever by now. Nick, who felt sorry for the kid, emptied and cleaned the wastebasket, which he then put back by the bed, just in case, then he went to get some more water.

Since there was nothing more to do, he sat down on the bed, regarding the stranger: he seemed impossibly young, but that didn't necessarily mean anything; he and Cody had been impossibly young as well when they had shipped to Vietnam, after all. Who knew what this guy was doing for a living- considering the scars they'd seen, it didn't look like a desk job.

Nick was still pondering this when the kid stirred, trying to turn onto his back, but then he gasped and lay still again, breathing hard, his eyes streaming.

“Easy, buddy,” Nick murmured, putting a hand on the kid's arm. He'd been in enough situations like this, albeit in the kid's place, to know that someone's touch sometimes was like a lifeline, especially when one was distraught or in pain, and it seemed to work: the kid visibly calmed down. “J'ck,” he muttered.

Nick slowly got to his feet and just waited. A little while later, the kid managed to open his eyes, blinking slowly.

“Hey,” Nick waited until the kid's eyes were trained on him, if not entirely focused. “I'll give you a hand, if you rather want to lie on your back.” The kid nodded, and with Nick's help, he turned onto his back. Gingerly, because of the head wound, he eased his head onto the pillow, then he breathed a sigh of relief.

“You must be parched,” Nick said, sitting down. “Wanna try to drink something again? I mixed some ginger into the water this time. Might help with the nausea.”

“'kay...”

Nick had also brought a straw, which made drinking easier. The kid took a few sips, then he frowned: “Still don't know my name.”

“Could it be Jack?”

The frown deepened. “I don't know... why?”

“You said the name earlier.”

“I don't know...,” he repeated. “Maybe...”

“I take it you also don't remember what happened?”

“No... nothing. Only that there's water...” He was visibly beginning to panic again, so Nick continued to talk in order to distract him: “Well, my partner Cody and I fished you out of the water about two hours ago. We're headed back to the mainland now, where we'll meet someone who can help. Since you said no hospital, we'll have a friend looking at you here on the boat. She's a vet.”

The kid frowned, trying to concentrate: “I... yes. Hospital's not safe.”

“See? You haven't forgotten everything.”

“But... don't know why.”

“Don't worry,” Nick said, seeking to appease him. “It'll come to you. Is it alright with you if we call you Jack in the meantime?”

“Yeah.” The kid blinked again.

“How's the nausea?”

“'kay.”

“Good. If the water stays down, you can have some more in a few minutes.”

Jack regarded him from under heavily-lidded eyes: “Thank you... for helping me.”

“Not at all,” Nick replied.

The kid however looked as though he disagreed: “'s a big deal.... Helping a stranger.”

Nick shrugged: “It's kinda ingrained. After we came back from 'Nam, we ran a detective agency for twenty-five years.”

“That's awesome.”

“Yeah, it was.” Nick smiled a little wistfully: “Those were different times though.”

They were silent for a moment, and Nick thought Jack, who couldn't seem to keep his eyes open for long, had dozed off again, but then he took a shuddering breath: “Should... get off your boat... soon 's we're ashore. Not safe...” Exhausted, he paused. “Don't know why.”

Nick regarded him, refraining from telling him the obvious: the kid was in no state to go anywhere, and besides, where would he go at all? Instead, he put his hand on Jack's arm again: “That's alright, we can hold our own if it comes to the worst.”

“Shouldn't... have to.”

“Don't worry,” Nick said, trying to ease his mind. “We still got some hardware, _and_ a shark gun.”

Jack gave a small sigh, then he moved his arm. At first, Nick thought he was gonna pull away from his touch, but instead, the kid grabbed Nick's hand with his own.

“Thanks,” he muttered again, looking at Nick. He was a pitiable sight, feverish and battered and appearing far too young to be finding himself in such a predicament, and Nick's heart went out to him.

“You'll be fine,” he said softly. “We're not gonna let anything happen to you, kid.”

Jack's gaze rested on him until his eyes closed again. He never let go of Nick's hand.

They had just reached the marina and tied the Riptide up when Murray and Caitlin came down the companionway. The latter was carrying a large bag, her dad a briefcase.

“Hi, honey,” Nick and Cody hugged her, then Murray, who was beaming: “Doesn't this feel like the old days?”

“Depends,” Nick said with a poker face. “Did you bring the Roboz?”

Murray face fell: “Why no, I didn't think-” Then he stopped himself: “Nick Ryder, you almost got me there.” Laughing, Nick hugged him again: “It's so good to see you, Boz.”

In the salon, Cody and Nick stopped their niece: “Before we go down- are you sure you want to do this?” Cody asked gently. “No one would blame you if you decided to back out, since we have no way of knowing who this young man is or if this is dangerous or not.”

Caitlin shook her head: “Of course I'm sure, Uncle Cody,” she said. “If I can help, I'll do it. But if I think he needs to go to the hospital, we'll have to think of something.”

“Fair enough.”

“Alright, then. Where is he?”

“Your dad's room,” Nick said. “He's woken up again just before we docked. Was a little disoriented until he recognized me.”

“Okay, thanks.” Caitlin, who had given them a call earlier in order to find out which kind of injuries she was going to deal with, followed Nick down to Murray's room.

The kid immediately opened his eyes when he heard their footsteps.

“Jack, this is Caitlin,” Nick said. “She's the friend I've told you about. My niece, actually.”

“Hi,” Jack said, his voice feeble. “Nice... t'meet you.”

Caitlin smiled: “Hi. Likewise.”

“I'll wait outside,” Nick said. “Call me if you need me to help.”

Caitlin looked at Jack: “That okay with you?”

“Yeah,” he replied, but his eyes followed Nick until he was out of sight.

He found Cody and Boz in the galley, where Cody was making some fresh coffee: “... who he is,” Cody was just saying.

Murray nodded: “Poor guy. It must be a bummer, losing your memory like that.” He pulled a notebook out of the briefcase he had brought: “I've meanwhile done some research and made a list of the vessels which have been in the area during the last twelve hours. I thought I'd check them out.”

“Good idea, Boz,” Cody said.

“Where's your security guy?” Nick asked.

Without taking his eyes off his screen, Murray waved his hand through the air: “Around.”

Nick and Cody exchanged a look: “Missed this,” Cody mouthed, obviously enjoying it.

Grinning, Nick sat down at the table.

Half an hour later, Caitlin joined them: “He'll be okay for now,” she said, to everyone's relief. “Though it's still a lot of guess work. I've put him on an IV to get some fluids into him.

I've also given him an anti-emetic and a mild analgesic; since I don't know which kind of drugs they gave him and it will take at least a day until they're out of his system, I refrained from giving him anything stronger. This way though, he'll hopefully be able to sleep and refuel.

"It's possible that one or two of his ribs are fractured. It doesn't seem like he's bleeding internally, but you'll have to keep monitoring him anyway, as he does have a concussion. I've taped the head wounds and stitched the one on his hip.” She paused. “It didn't look as though the bullet grazed the bone, but that's also only guess work. I can't do much about the fever, I'm afraid, since I'm not sure what's causing it. Could be the drugs, or possibly, pneumonia, or both, but it's too early to tell. His lungs didn't crackle, but that doesn't mean it's not happening. Without a chest x-ray though... as I said. Guess work.”

“Pneumonia?”

“Some of his symptoms are consistent with bacterial pneumonia,” Caitlin explained, “which can be caused by inhaling seawater. Or...” She paused. “Victims of waterboarding often suffer from it.”

At that, even Murray looked up in from his computer in dismay.

“You think it's possible that he was tortured?” Cody asked softly.

“Considering the overall state he's in, I can't rule it out.” Caitlin's voice quivered a little at that. “Some of his contusions are rather severe. I can only imagine how awful he's feeling right now.”

“But you'd say it's okay to keep him here for the time being?” Nick asked, just to be sure.

Caitlin considered this: “Yes. I'd say he's lucky you found him, and whoever did this to him is not to be trifled with.”

For a moment, nobody spoke.

“Thank you, honey,” Cody eventually said. “We're really grateful you're doing this.”

Caitlin nodded, accepting a mug of coffee: “Thanks. It's really no big deal. And Uncle Nick?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“He could do with some feeding up. Maybe start with some soup?”

“On it.” Nick nodded. “My grandma's zuppa di pollo can heal everything.”

“It's really good,” Cody confirmed.

Murray sighed dreamily: “I've got some fond memories of it.”

Caitlin looked from his dad to her uncles, grinning.

Nick got to his feet: “I'mma see how he's doing.”

Cody looked after him, a small smile playing around his mouth: “He's already thinking of adopting the guy.”

Caitlin shrugged: “Well, I gotta say this: you two were right. He does have something decent about him. I don't believe he's a thug either.”

“Hear, hear,” Cody said.

It seemed like the medication was doing its trick, and the saline solution probably helped, because Jack looked marginally less wretched. In order not to startle him, Nick announced his presence by clearing his throat, at which the kid opened his eyes.

“Hey,” Nick slowly approached the bed. “Feeling better?”

Jack blinked. “Gettin' there,” he murmured.

“Good.” Nick sat down. “You should try and get some real sleep. And once the nausea's gone, you should eat something.”

Jack's expression was apprehensive: “You really sure I should stay?”

“Yes, I'm sure.” Nick gave him a smile. “We'll get you through this.”

“How do we know... if you can trust me?”

Nick regarded him: “The very fact that you're asking this tells me that you can't be that bad.”

“Still... 'm a liability... you shouldn't take any risks... 'cause of me.”

“Haven't I told you about the shark gun?”

Jack swallowed, briefly closing his eyes. “May not be... 'nough.”

“Seriously, kid,” Nick said gently. “We got this. All you gotta do for now is get some rest, give your body a chance to heal.”

“You... going to stay?” Jack asked, sounding very young all of a sudden.

Nick nodded: “Yeah. I'll stay right here until you're asleep.”

At that, the kid visibly relaxed. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“Anytime, kid,” Nick replied.

The kid slept uninterruptedly for the next few hours; Nick and Caitlin kept checking on him frequently.

Murray left again for a while; when he came back, he didn't only bring two more computers but also the Roboz.

“Hey, buddy, long time no see!” Cody said, grinning.

“Hello, Cody. That is correct,” the Roboz said with his pleasantly modulated voice. It was the original one, but of course, he was using a completely different software now, and apart from that, Murray had modified him significantly over the years; his eyes for example were now equipped with cameras. Still, it was good to see him.

While Murray, after relocating to the salon, was working at his computers, Cody went to the shops to buy the ingredients for Nick's zuppa di pollo and some clothes and necessities for Jack.

Nick and he were just putting the groceries away a little later when Murray called them.

“Gather 'round,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Did you find something?” Cody asked eagerly.

“I think so. And you're not gonna like it.”

“What is it?”

“The only boat which seems to meet the criteria is a large explorer yacht called Le Vent Du Midi. She's almost 238 feet long and belongs to one Gaspard Franklin. He's got his fingers in all kinds of unsavoury business. At first glance, you'd think he's a clever entrepreneur and philanthropist, but if one digs deep, there's a lot of dirt of the really bad kind, like human trafficking and large scale drug trading.” Murray looked up: “He's also known for his... thoroughness. Meaning he's probably not settling for assuming that Jack drowned.”

They looked at each other. “Okay,” Nick said slowly. “Maybe we should really get out our guns.”

Cody nodded.

Murray motioned towards his computer: “I've set up a surveillance system for now, using CCTV and GPS data. Every single car that's registered under Franklin's name or any of his companies is gonna trigger an alarm if it approaches the marina. I've also found the boat; the Roboz will be monitoring it, it's currently still at sea.”

“That's really boss,” Cody said. “But what do we do in case one of those cars does approach? It could be a coincidence... and if it's not, I don't think calling the police will be of much help then.”

Nick shook his head: “The Mimi's ready to go. As soon as we think there's a real threat, we'll be out of here.”

Cody sighed: “Let's hope so. We're not getting any younger.”

“Oh, come on,” Nick said. “You make us sound so geriatric.”

“Besides,” Murray said, leaning back and folding his arms in front of his chest, “you're forgetting I've still got my security guys out there.”

“I thought it's only one.”

“I brought reinforcements earlier, now there are four. They'll be handy if it comes to the worst.”

While Nick and Cody exchanged another look, Murray addressed his daughter, who had been quiet so far: “If you'd rather leave, that's okay, honey.”

She shook her head: “I'm not scared, and I'd rather keep an eye on my patient. And since it's the weekend and I'm not on call...” She shrugged. “I'll stay.”

Murray nodded: “Okay. Just promise me to do as your uncles say, if things should get ugly.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes: “Dad, I'm not five anymore.”

“No, but he's got a point,” Cody said quietly. “It might get dangerous, and in that case, you're our responsibility.”

“I know.” She gave him a smile, for a moment reminding him of the five-year-old whom he taught how to swim. “I promise I'll be careful.”

“Good.” Cody returned the smile.

For a moment, nobody spoke, then Nick straightened up: “I'll get started on the soup.”

“I'll help you,” Cody said. At that, Murray and Caitlin exchanged a surreptitious but amused look: these two always preferred to be close, even if that meant having vegetable cutting duties.

He woke up slowly. For a while, he just lay there, feeling heavy and still tired, and tried to make sense of the situation.

He could hear voices, and there was an enticing smell in the air, as if someone was cooking. Right, he was on a boat. It was cozy, and for some reason, he felt a pang of something he couldn't put his finger on. For a time, he just lay there, but he wasn't entirely at ease. He didn't know why, but something was bothering him, and while the bed was very comfortable, he felt too warm altogether, too muzzy. And then he made the mistake to try and move, which was almost impossible. He winced, because now his body reminded him that something was off. Everything ached dully, and he felt strangely sore. Not moving seemed the better option, but his bladder was making itself known.

Bracing himself, he made to sit up, which was slow-going and took every ounce of strength he had. Once he had managed to prop himself up onto his elbows, his eyes were streaming and he was panting shallowly; pain was spreading from his ribs and his side, making him feel queasy. It had been less noticeable before, but now it was sharper and more consistent, making it difficult to breathe properly. His head was throbbing in the same rhythm as his pulse, which didn't help.

He couldn't subdue a whimper as he doggedly pushed himself into a sitting position, and he was dizzy when he was finally upright. For a moment, he thought he might throw up, but when he managed to keep still and eventually get his breathing under control again, the sensation subsided.

His arms were shaking from the effort of supporting him, so he slowly began to scoot towards the edge of the mattress, then he turned and let his legs slide down. Next, he closed the IV line with a shaking hand and pulled the needle out of his arm, pressing onto the small wound with the washcloth that had still been lying on the nightstand to stop the bleeding.

He was about to push the covers off when he realized he was naked. Slowly, he pulled the topmost blanket, which was a woolen throw, towards him and around his shoulders.

Just as his feet were touching the floor, he heard footsteps, and then Nick peered in: “Hey,” he said, even as Jack was getting to his feet, and the latter felt tremendously relieved to see him: “Gotta pee,” he all but wheezed, because standing up like that made the pain flare up again, turning his knees into jelly, and he would have lost his footing if Nick hadn't quickly been there, catching him: “Hey, hey, not so fast,” he said, gently easing him back down onto the mattress, where Jack sat until he had his breath back.

“Okay?” Nick then asked, at which Jack indicated a nod. “Okay. Come on, I'll help you. Head's right around the corner.”

With the older man's help, Jack stood up again. His legs were still wobbly, but with Nick's support, he made it to the small bathroom.

“I'll leave you in peace,” Nick said, wanting to give the kid his privacy, “just open the door when you're done.”

Jack gave a small sigh: “Sorry for... all the inconvenience.”

“Stop apologizing, will you?” With that, Nick closed the door behind him.

Jack relieved himself, then tottered over to the sink to wash his hands. He looked at himself in the mirror while he did so, barely recognizing his own face, and not only because of the bruises and the scruff: something was off. Also, he wasn't at all sure his name was Jack, but somehow, that name had been on his mind after he had first woken up, and it was now. Why, he couldn't say.

With a sigh, he turned away to dry his hands, then he pushed the narrow door open again, leaning against the wall for support; every movement hurt. A moment later, Nick reappeared and helped him back to the bed: “We got some clothes for you, figured you'd feel better if you're dressed. Sorry to say it, but your old things are a write-off, except for your shoes.” He put a shopping bag on the bed next to where Jack was sitting and pulled out a pair of sweatpants, a few t-shirts, boxers and socks: “There's also a toothbrush and a razor in here.”

Touched, Jack looked from the bag to him: “Thanks,” he said slowly. “I don't know... how I've been so lucky.”

Nick inclined his head: “There were some times in my life that I've asked myself the same. You know, Cody and I met in Vietnam, and we survived together. I don't think I could've done it without him. None of it.”

Jack considered this: “What'd you do... in Vietnam?”

“I'm a pilot, and he was my door gunner. Best damn shot there ever was. We had each other's backs from the beginning. Things like that tend to put everything else into a different perspective, I guess. Makes you see what's important, and what isn't.”

“I know,” Jack heard himself say, and he felt another, inexplicable pang. “It's kinda the same for me... after returning from... the sandbox.”

For a breathless moment, they were silent.

“You were in Afghanistan?” Nick then asked.

Jack opened his mouth and closed it. “I guess,” he murmured, dumbstruck. Briefly, he thought of heat and the low rumble of a motor, but he couldn't conjure up a clearer picture. His haptic memory told him that he knew how to handle a gun, but the notion made him frown.

Nick regarded him: “Guess you're older than you look.”

Jack looked pained: “I wish... I knew.”

They were silent again, then Nick motioned towards the clothes: “You need help with those?”

At that, the kid blushed a little; he didn't like to admit it, but he was feeling so shaky by now that the notion of getting dressed by himself was excruciating. So he nodded: “'fraid so.”

Nick shook his head: “I know it's awkward, but there's really no need to be embarrassed,” he said sympathetically. “Between Cody and me, we can't even tell anymore how often we've ended up in similar scrapes. I've seen more hospitals than I care to count. And most nurses are not exactly squeamish, if you know what I mean.” Which was a bit of an exaggeration, but it elicited a small smile, and Jack seemed less tense upon hearing it. He was actually glad not to have to bend down or move too much.

Once he was wearing fresh underwear, sweatpants and a t-shirt, Nick helped him to lie down again. Relieved, he closed his eyes for a moment, and Nick was concerned about how pale he still was, and how much effort it obviously took for him to move or speak. He was amazed that Jack had managed to get up on his own at all. The fever was still there too; even if he hadn't felt it radiating off the kid's skin, it was apparent from his glazed eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Caitlin will probably want to have a look at you, and that,” Nick therefore said, pointing at the disconnected IV. “Think you're up to some soup afterwards?”

Jack nodded. Now that the nausea was mostly gone, he felt vaguely hungry.

He opened his eyes again when Caitlin came in: “I heard about your attempt to escape,” she said, winking. “Next time, let me handle the IV first, okay?”

Jack managed to look contrite while she cleaned away the blood on his arm, then inserted the needle into his other arm.

“How're you feeling?” she asked.

Jack wanted to say he was fine, that she needn't look so concerned, but in the mirror in the head, he had seen how ill he looked, and if he was honest with himself, he felt terrible; his thoughts were too sluggish, and he still felt uncomfortably hot because of the fever. Combined with the pain and aches from his various injuries, it was difficult to pretend otherwise. “Been better,” he therefore said truthfully.

Caitlin nodded: “I can imagine. I'll give you another round of pain medication once you've eaten something, it'll take the edge off.”

Jack nodded tiredly; he only wanted to go back to sleep, and if painkillers were the key to doing so, he was all for it. Caitlin auscultated his chest once more, checked his blood pressure and his pupils and asked a few questions.

“Any chest pain?” she wanted to know, but Jack couldn't tell, because of the overall state he was in. “Maybe,” he said. “S'rry... it's not... precise. But... ev'rything hurts.”

“Okay.” Caitlin took her stethoscope off; she thought she'd heard the first susurrations of the crackling that was one sure-fire sign of pneumonia, but in the early stages, it was difficult to tell.

Jack managed to drink almost an entire mug of the chicken soup Nick had made; at Caitlin's recommendation, he had watered it down a little in order not to try the kid's stomach after what might be a few days without solid food.

Afterwards, Caitlin injected him with another dose of the analgesic she had given him earlier.

He slept for the rest of the afternoon, coughing occasionally but not waking up from it. Just as before, Caitlin and Nick kept checking on him regularly.

He woke up in the early evening with the chills, and he was being rather disoriented; his fever had still risen in the meantime, and he wasn't able to string a coherent sentence together. All they could make out was the name “Jack”, which he repeated a few times upon waking up, his eyes fixed on Nick.

“Maybe it's not his own name at all,” Nick said softly.

Caitlin, who had just taken out the IV, inclined her head: “Possible,” she murmured. "For now though, it's all we got."

They wrapped another thick blanket around Jack and put a hot water bottle at his feet; eventually, the awful shivering subsided. They took it in turns to sit with him from then on, trying to provide some relief for the fever by cooling his skin with wet cloths, but two hours later, nothing had changed.

The kid was dozing fitfully, sometimes flinching at the cold, sometimes mumbling something under his breath or coughing; sometimes, he just lay still, as if the stuffing had been knocked out of him, and Nick couldn't even say which of the three was worse.

Caitlin shook her head: “I'm giving him an anti-pyretic now, this is putting too much of a strain on him when he's already so worn out.” She had listened to his lungs again and was now certain that she was hearing some crackling.

Nick nodded: “Anything I can do?”

“Just stay with him for a while longer?” Caitlin said. “He seems calmer when you're around.”

“Okay.” Nick sat down; he was tired as well now, since it had been a long day, but he couldn't leave the kid alone now, or have Caitlin do all the work.

Cody looked in on them a few times, bringing them coffee or fresh water. At one point, Caitlin, who had sat down in the old wicker chair they had squeezed into the corner next to the bed, fell asleep, and Nick didn't see any reason to wake her.

“You should go to bed,” he said to Cody, who had promptly brought a blanket and spread it over their niece and goddaughter. Murray was dozing on the bench sofa in the salon, the Roboz being on duty.

“Nah, I'm good.” Cody sat down next to him, and Nick leaned into him a little: “Crazy day, huh?”

“Yeah.” Cody regarded their guest: “Do you think he really was in Afghanistan?”

Nick shrugged: “It could explain the scars.”

“Hm. I asked Murray if we could use it to find out who he is, but he said that he'd already run a search and come up with several thousand names of soldiers younger than 25 and hundreds younger than 20.”

Nick considered this: “50 years later, and we're still sending kids to war.”

Cody was silent for a moment: “We felt all grown-up back then, didn't we, until our first battles.”

“Yeah.” Occasionally, it's still creeping up on them, in their sleep: on those occasions, they woke up soaked in cold sweat and full of dread, sometimes screaming, sometimes sobbing.

“Would you do it all again?” Cody now asked.

“If I had to,” Nick said without hesitation. “Not without you, though.”

Cody found his hand and squeezed it: “Likewise,” he said softly, pressing a kiss on Nick's cheek.

They didn't talk much after that, but both of them were glad about each other's company.

The fever abated somewhat some time after midnight, probably due to the medication. The cough seemed rather persistent, but Jack was sleeping soundly now. Nick and Cody woke Caitlin; she said she was fine sleeping on the other bench in the salon, and twenty minutes later, everyone on the Riptide had taken to their (makeshift) beds. Nick tucked himself under Cody's arm even though neither of them wanted to read; it was nice to slowly drop off like that, however. Cody, who held him tightly, wholeheartedly agreed.

Jack Dalton was pacing. He hadn't slept in a while, which was making his eyes feel gritty and a bone-deep fatigue settle in his body, but he didn't care. Mac was missing, and they couldn't find him. They'd fruitlessly been searching for him for days, and Jack was getting frantic. This time, they were certain that it had got nothing to do with Murdoc, but it was equally unsettling: whoever had Mac had been thorough. He just disappeared, period, and Jack could feel every nerve in his body tingling with fear. They'd followed every possible lead they could think of, with no success.

The others weren't faring much better than Jack, of course. Riley's expression was so grim that Jack wasn't sure she was ever gonna be able to unlock her jaw again, while Bozer looked downright terrified, even though he did his best to keep it together. Even Matty was at the end of her tether, it seemed; she snapped at everyone but their team, and just like them, she had barely slept either.

Since they didn't find any useful leads, they started to compile a list of possible causes or people whose paths they had crossed and who might have a bone to pick with either of them (if they were still alive) and began to check their recent activities.

Early on the fourth day, Riley finally found something, but it wasn't at all what she'd expected. “You remember El Noche?” she asked Jack.

“The Nacho? Yeah, why?”

“I had a hunch and hacked into the prison's computer to see if he had any contact to someone outside or visitors recently, and it turns out he did.”

Matty, Bozer and Jack straightened up: “And?”

“He had one visitor last month, a man by the name of Gaspard Franklin.”

“Who he?”

Riley quickly pulled up more data: “A scumbag who's posing as a businessman.”

“I've heard of him,” Matty said, her eyes on the screen. “He's been known to make people disappear.”

Jack looked from her to Riley: “The Nacho put a four million dollar prize on Mac's head before he realized he was broke,” he said tonelessly. “When Mac told him that all his money's gone, he said he still had plenty of friends who were owing him favours.”

“Seems like Franklin's one of those,” Riley said, dread audible in her voice.

Bozer, who had been silent so far, sat down heavily: “So if he's got Mac...” He didn't end that sentence.

It was Matty who recovered her composure first: “Okay. Since this is our first and only lead, we should follow up on it. Riley, I need you to find out what Franklin's been doing the past four days.”

“On it,” Riley said, typing frantically.

Matty nodded: “I'm gonna make a phone call to that prison- since we don't have the time to fly to Texas, they're going to have to set up a video call with El Noche.”

Jack went over to Bozer and silently put his hand on his shoulder; there was nothing to say, but Bozer looked at him gratefully, and if Jack was honest with himself, he needed the comfort as much as his friend did.

They were going to get his boy back, either way. The notion that they might be too late didn't bear thinking about, but Jack couldn't help it, just as he couldn't help the sudden moisture in his eyes.

On the following morning, the kid was entirely lucid, but his eyes were still glazed and he was coughing a lot. Caitlin confirmed that he very likely had pneumonia, which seemed pretty clear even without a chest x-ray.

“His other vital functions are okay,” she told the others in the galley after having examined him. “And the wound looks as though it's beginning to heal. He's still feverish, but I think it's safe to give him some antibiotics in addition to the the painkillers. I'll go and get a prescription filled after breakfast; I quickly wanna nip home to get some fresh clothes and feed the fish and the turtles anyway.”

“Take one of the guys with you,” Murray yawned; his security people had just been relieved by four others.

“Do you really think it's necessary?”

“Better safe than sorry.”

“Okay.”

Cody, who was making scrambled eggs, turned around to her: “We still got some of that digusting tea left which you recommended when I had bronchitis. It's awful, but it helps. Should I make some?”

“Yeah, why not.” Caitlin smiled wrily. “It's not as if he can run away or anything.”

In the meantime, Nick had gone to look after Jack: “Hey,” he said softly when he peered into the room. “You awake?”

Jack blinked: “Think so...” He coughed. Nick put a fresh glass of water on the nightstand: “How're you feeling?”

“Achy and... sore,” Jack murmured. “As if... I fought... an ogre.” He paused, coughing again. “Scratch that... A whole... village of ogres.” Every time he coughed, his ribs protested as well, making his eyes water. “But... at least the headache... is gone.”

The way he was yet talking haltingly because he was still a little short of breath betrayed how poorly he really was, and he still looked it.

“Need... the bathroom...,” he now said. “And a shave.”

Just as before, Nick helped him to the head, where he laid the razor and a guest towel next to the sink. “You really up to shaving?” he asked doubtfully.

“Itches,” Jack only muttered. “'ll be fine.”

“'kay. Call if you need anything.” With that, Nick left him to his own devices and went back to the galley, where Cody had meanwhile prepared some tea. “See if he'd like some scrambled egg on toast when he's done,” he said.

Miraculously, he managed not to cut himself, despite his hand beginning to shake after a few minutes and having to stop every time he coughed. He looked at himself in the mirror; he was pretty sure, even if he couldn't say why, that he always shaved, and yet... the stubble felt familiar too, though at the same time, not as bristly as he expected. His gaze wandered to the wound on his temple and the bruise next to his eye, the colours of which had intensified in the meantime. He could feel it too; every time he so much as squinted, the motion pulled at the overly sensitive skin.

His knees were feeling like jelly when he was done, so he lowered himself onto the closed toilet lid and waited until he felt less unsteady. Still shaking, he got up, opened the door and made his way back to the bed without any assistance. Feeling winded, he crawled back onto the mattress and just sat there, holding his ribs with his arms while he waited for the pain to subside.

A moment later, Nick came back: “Better?”

“Beard-wise, yeah.” Jack reached up and touched his jaw, promptly coughing again. “I need... a fresh shirt.”

“Course.” Nick got one and gently helped Jack to change into it, which was slow-going and laborious. It didn't help that the kid kept coughing until his eyes were streaming.

“Come on,” Nick said gently once the bout was over. “We got some tea for you, and some breakfast. Think you can sit up against the headboard?”

Jack nodded. With Nick's help, he shimmied backwards; when he was propped up against a few pillows, Nick went to get his breakfast. Jack was relieved to be back in bed, feeling as though he'd just run a marathon and then had collided with a train. Nick soon came back with a tray that held the aforementioned tea, a glass of orange juice, some toast and scrambled eggs.

“Is this okay?” Nick grimaced in sympathy. “I know the tea is... taxing, but it really helps with the cough.”

Jack exhaled carefully: “I've had worse. My grandpa swore on herbal remedies.” Once again, they froze momentarily, but just as before, Jack didn't know where this had been coming from. It was like trying to look through a window only to discover that it was all fogged up.

Nick decided not to tell him yet that he thought Jack wasn't the kid's real name; he didn't want to upset him, not when he was looking so ill and obviously feeling lousy. Now that he was clean shaven, he appeared even younger than before, which only served to intensify the impression Nick had gotten earlier that there was a certain fragility about him, something easily vulnerable.

Jack didn't have much of an appetite, but he ate nevertheless; he knew that his stomach wouldn't thank him if he didn't, especially with the medication.

“This is really good,” he eventually said, meaning the eggs.

Nick smiled: “Cody made those. It's a secret recipe.”

Jack regarded him: “But you... know the secret,” he stated.

Nick's smile broadened into a grin: “Yeah. He doesn't need to know that, though.”

A small smile flitted over the kid's face as well.

As if on cue, Cody looked in: “Good morning,” he said. “How're you doing?”

“Gettin' there,” Jack replied, lifting the corners of his mouth. “The eggs are... amazing.”

Beaming, Cody looked from him to Nick: “See? You're not the only cook in the family.”

At that, something tugged at Jack's mind, just back there at the edge of his awareness. A voice, telling him that he was about to be in Burger Heaven... He blinked, trying to grasp the memory, but it faded too quickly.

“You okay?” Nick asked.

“Yeah.” Slowly, Jack took a deep breath, mindful of his ribs. “Just... sometimes I think there's... something I should know. … Can't grasp it.” He looked frustrated.

“It'll come to you,” Cody said encouragingly. His tone was so kind that Jack could actually believe he meant it, instead of just saying what seemed appropriate.

“I hope so,” he muttered.

After breakfast, once Caitlin was back, she made Jack take the antibiotic, then she exchanged the bandages on his wrists and had a look at the hip wound.

“It's coming along nicely,” she said, as she dressed it. “How's the chest pain?”

Jack coughed, grimacing, which was answer enough; he felt completely exhausted again and was glad when Caitlin helped him to lie down afterwards. “Thanks,” he muttered. “For everything.”

“Pleasure,” Caitlin replied. “It's my job. Well, kinda. My usual patients would wear an e-collar with an injury like that.”

This elicited a small grin. “Glad you're not... making me.”

Jack dozed off not long after he had lain down again, coughing every now and then; getting up and everything had worn him out, and the medication was contributing to his fatigue.

He slept for most of the morning, and Nick already thought things were looking up, but around noon, Caitlin came back from checking on him with a steep frown: “The fever's back, and I could barely rouse him. Blood pressure's low too. Maybe it was too early for the drugs I prescribed...”

Nick and Cody exchanged a look: “I'm sure you didn't do anything wrong,” Cody then said calmly.

“Maybe he's allergic to one of the substances,” Nick suggested, getting up to go and check on the kid himself.

Caitlin chewed on her lip while she led the way through the short corridor: “It's possible,” she said.

In Murray's room, Nick gently put a hand on Jack's arm: “Hey, buddy,” he said. Jack slowly opened his eyes, looking at Nick with a dazed expression.

“Jack?” Nick said, “you with me?”

Blinking groggily, Jack kept his gaze trained on him: “'s okay, Jack,” he slurred. “I cut... the cable. … Can move... now.”

Nick glanced over at Caitlin, whose frown even deepened; in the meantime, the kid's eyes closed again.

“That he's disoriented might simply be caused by the fever,” she said. “But I can't determine what's causing it. It could be anything from an allergic reaction to toxic shock syndrome, in which case he'd really need to go to a hospital.”

Nick considered this: “Okay,” he said. “If it's the best option-”

Right then, there was a strange noise to be heard, and a moment later Murray yelled for them to come into the salon.

Caitlin and Nick didn't hesitate, and neither did Cody.

“What is it?” he asked once they had all rushed up the stairs.

“That's the Roboz' alarm,” Murray said. “The Vent Du Midi is gathering way, and it looks as as though she's headed this way. Also, she's got a helicopter aboard which just took off.”

“Let me guess- it's also coming here?” Cody frowned.

Murray nodded.

Nick cursed softly: “Great timing,” he muttered. “Jack isn't doing well at all, so we-” He was interrupted by another shrill sound.

Murray's head whipped around to his computers: “Two of Franklin's cars are headed for pier 56.”

“We gotta move,” Nick and Cody said in unison.

“Just like old times,” Murray muttered, already getting to his feet and reaching for his cell phone. “I'll give my guys a heads up.”

Five minutes later, they left the boat. Nick and Cody half-carried Jack between them while Caitlin and her dad carried the computers and the Roboz; two of Murray's security guys were escorting them over to the helipad.

“Seriously?” Cody had said when Murray had grabbed the robot, but Murray hadn't budged: “I won't leave him here. What if they shoot at him again?”

“Nobody is gonna shoot at my boat this time!” Cody said. “I hope.”

The Mimi started at the first attempt, to everyone's relief; they lifted off even as Caitlin and Cody were still strapping Jack in on the old sofa in the cargo bay.

“See, it pays off to have Baxter Aviation as your personal service shop,” Cody said once he had climbed up to the co-pilot's seat. “Not a single backfire!”

Nick huffed: “I'm not gonna dignify that with an answer.”

Murray, who was securing the Roboz, made an unhappy sound: “Guys? Franklin's chopper is coming in fast!”

Nick swung the Mimi around and flew northwards, keeping close to the shore; there was no point in risking a chase over downtown L.A., after all.

“Yep, there he is,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Better get out the rifle.”

“On it.” Cody climbed down again; he took the rifle out of its locker, made sure it was loaded and pushed the cargo bay door open, clicking a carabiner into his belt in case he lost his footing.

Caitlin watched him with narrowed eyes: “I didn't think I'd ever see this,” she said. She'd heard all the stories, of course, but that had been in the past.

“We'll be alright, honey,” Murray said with more conviction than he felt.

The radio came to life: “N698,” a calm, somewhat husky voice said. “You've already realized we're on your tail. Put that piece of junk down so no one gets hurt, and we'll come to an understanding.”

“Oh yeah?” Nick replied. “First of all: my chopper's a classic. Secondly: I really don't like your tone. Haven't you seen 'Kingsman'? 'Manners maketh man', Mister. Also: we don't deal with scumbags.”

“Well, we tried to warn you.” A moment later, one of the men in the other helicopter opened fire.

Cody fired back while Nick did his best to avoid getting hit.

Jack groaned, blinking his eyes open as the large chopper suddenly dropped a few feet: “Sorry,” Nick called.

Cody suddenly pulled back from the door, muttering a few choice expletives: “It's jammed,” he said, nodding at the rifle.

After a moment of comprehension, Jack tried to sit up.

“What are you doing?” Caitlin quickly supported him. “You shouldn't-”

“I... can help.” Jack reached for the gun. “Just... need a paperclip.”

“I got one!” Murray handed him to him.

“What's going on down there?” Nick wanted to know.

“Rifle's jammed. Jack thinks he can fix it,” Cody replied.

The Mimi was taking another round of bullets; worriedly, Caitlin tried to focus on what her patient was doing instead.

With shaking hands, Jack bent the steel wire into a different shape and fumbled with the rifle. A moment later, there was an audible clicking sound. “Should... work now,” he said, falling back onto the mattress. “Have it... looked at... back at the base.” Caitlin put her hand on his shoulders because he looked distraught now.

“Thanks, buddy,” Cody said, quickly taking up his former position by the door.

The Mimi swerved, but Cody didn't lose his aim; they couldn't afford to do this much longer. And he could do this. He had always been able to shut out everything else around him and concentrate on the target as long as Nick was the one who was flying.

“Bingo,” he said, having hit the chopper's tail rotor. Immediately, the helicopter began to spin rather uncontrollably and lose height; the pilot didn't have any other chance than to set it down on the beach rather ungently; people were running away screaming in all directions. Nick brought the Mimi down far enough so that Cody could keep his gun trained on their assailants. The shooter was taking up his own again as well and the pilot had also drawn a gun, but he never got to even aim it at them, because all of sudden, there was a third helicopter, which came all but swooping down, and it was visibly armed. Upon seeing the weapons trained on them, Franklin's men dropped their own guns and lifted their hands in surrender.

“N698,” a new voice came over the comm, and it was vaguely familiar. “This is Jack Dalton.”

“Jack?” Nick asked, surprised.

“Yeah. I'll explain later. I'm looking for someone.”

Nick nodded: “Lanky kid, just got himself out of a scrape recently lord only knows how?”

“You got him?” Relief was unmistakable in Dalton's tone.

“Yeah. But Jack- he's not doing too good. Our next stop's gotta be a hospital.”

“No,” Jack said. “No hospital. I'm coming over, okay? Our guys here have got this.” Already, Nick could see several black SUVs approaching.

“Okay.”

A moment later, a figure jumped out of the chopper and came running towards the Mimi. Nick lowered her down so that Jack could climb in.

“Hi, Jack,” Cody said, as astonished as Nick. “What-”

“Hi, Cody. I'll explain later,” Jack said, clapping Cody on the arm, but his eyes were already on the kid.

“Mac,” Jack crouched in front of the sofa, reaching out and gently putting his hand on Mac's cheek, cupping his neck with the other; it was the closest thing to a hug that was possible right then.

“Hey, buddy.” His voice was tender and trembled with relief and affection, and for a moment there, Cody, Caitlin and Murray wondered if Mac might actually be his son.

Mac's exhausted, red-rimmed eyes rested on Jack's face; briefly, there was tiny frown visible, but then his eyes widened in sudden recognition: “J'ck,” he muttered, his voice bare of any strength.

“Yes, kiddo, it's me.” Jack smiled; he tried not to let on how shaken he was by Mac's appearance, but his eyes were moist.

A smile flitted over Mac's face, but then his features contorted, and he coughed. Patiently, Jack held on to him, gently rubbing his thumb over Mac's neck until he finally sagged, eyes streaming.

“We'll get you home now,” Jack said, feeling helpless. “Nick?”

“Yup.”

“I'll give you the coordinates.” He never took his eyes off his boy while he did so; Mac had meanwhile closed his own eyes again, unable to keep them open any longer.

“Mac? Hey, buddy? I'll let you sleep in a minute. Are you in pain?”

“'s not too bad,” the kid slurred.

Jack looked doubtful, but he let it slide for now. “Can you tell me who kidnapped you? Was it this guy?” He showed Mac a photo of Gaspard Franklin on his phone.

“Yes.”

Jack nodded grimly: “Thought so. They took you onto a boat?”

“Big one...”

“Okay. And you got out by yourself?”

“Yes...”

“That's my boy.” Jack gently stroked over Mac's hair.

“Drugs,” Mac muttered, as an afterthought. “'s all muddled. S'rry...”

“Hey, hey,” Jack sounded determined. “You did nothing wrong. On the contrary, you got out, and that's all that matters, you hear me?”

Mac sighed: “'kay.”

“Good,” Jack said. “Get some rest, okay?”

Once Mac had dozed off, Jack looked at Caitlin: “Sorry. Jack Dalton. I usually do have manners, but I kinda get this tunnel vision when it comes to Mac.”

“That's okay,” she said, regarding his tired face with sympathy. “I'm Caitlin Bozinsky, that over there is my dad-”

“We've met,” Jack said, smiling at Murray. “Good to see you, Boz.”

“Good to see you too, Jack. Oh, you might want to send someone over to the marina; my guys have detained Franklin's men.”

“Already happening.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Did anyone shoot at my boat?”

“I dunno, man. Sorry.”

“So... his name's Mac?” Nick asked over the comm. “We thought it was Jack. But it seems he was talking about you.”

Jack's gaze turned back to his kid: “Probably,” he said, at the same time touched and feeling guilty because Mac had needed him and he hadn't been there. “His name's Angus MacGyver. He prefers to be called Mac.”

“Understandably,” Caitlin muttered.

“So, what it is that you're doing?” Cody now asked.

“We're working for a think tank, the Phoenix Foundation.”

“Last I heard you were special ops.”

“Yeah. Needed a change though, and that's actually how Mac and I met: he's an EOD tech and I was his overwatch in Afghanistan.”

All eyes went to Mac, who was blissfully unaware of being the center of their attention.

“Wow,” Caitlin said after a moment. “He's full of surprises, this guy.”

“Yeah,” Jack said tenderly. “He is.”

The Mimi touched down on the Phoenix Foundation's helipad twenty minutes later; there was already a medical team waiting. After Mac had been loaded onto a gurney, Caitlin accompanied the team to brief them. Jack went with them as well, while Nick, Cody, Murray and the Roboz were being led to a conference room that had some expensive furniture and a large screen that filled an entire wall.

“Think tank, my... you know,” Murray muttered, putting a finger on his nose.

A short woman who obviously had dwarfism greeted them: “I'm Matilda Webber, director of the Phoenix Foundation. I want to thank you for putting your lives at risk for one of my agents.”

Raising an eyebrow, Cody looked at the others: “Agents?”

“We can as well be frank,” Director Webber said coolly. “Mr. Bozinsky here would probably find out about us anyway.”

A grin flashed over Murray's face, and he shrugged.

Webber continued: “And since you are highly decorated veterans and have run a detective agency afterwards, during the course of which you've often worked closely with the police, I assume that our secret's safe with you.”

“You're assuming correctly,” Nick said.

Webber nodded: “Sit down, gentlemen. I need you to tell me exactly what happened.”

Which they did.

“I've got all the data stored on a flash drive and at your disposal,” Murray said, once Nick and Cody had ended.

Director Webber smiled tightly: “Thank you, that'll be convenient.” She appeared a little shaken by what she just heard. It seemed that the team was rather close; at second glance, Director Webber looked as tired as Jack. They probably hadn't gotten much rest during the last few days, which was understandable.

“I'm sure Mac'll be okay,” Cody said in order to reassure her. “He seemed to recognize Jack, and once he's being treated properly...”

Webber nodded again: “Thanks,” she said softly. “I hope so.” After a moment of silence, she visibly pulled herself together: “So, how is it that you know Jack Dalton?”

“When his family moved to California, he jobbed at the marina,” Cody said. “And he kept bugging Nick to teach him how to fly.”

Nick smiled: “He had some real talent. I took him up a few times, showed him the basics, that's all. The rest, he learned in the air force.”

“They taught me the technique,” Jack's voice came from the door. “But you taught me the most important thing: how to rely on your intuition. To use your heart, and your gut.”

Nick turned around to him: “Oh yeah? Glad it worked, then.” He got to his feet and held out his hand as Jack approached him; to his surprise, the man pulled him into his arms and hugged him tightly: “Thank you,” he said, his voice choked. “For taking such good care of my boy.”

Nick clapped his back: “Not at all,” he replied. “He's a good guy.”

“That he is.” When Jack let go of him, he smiled a little watery, then he went to hug Cody and Murray as well.

“How's Mac doing?” Matty asked.

“Doc threw me out,” Jack said quietly. “They're running some tests, but it seems he's not out of the woods yet.”

Right then, two more people entered the room: a woman and a black guy, both probably around Mac's age. They looked as tired as Jack and Director Webber. When they saw Murray, they both froze, their faces lighting up: “Murray Bozinsky!” the young woman gasped. “Is this real?”

The young man looked from Murray to the Roboz in awe: “Nah, I think I'm dreaming. Riley, pinch me!”

Jack actually grinned: “Riley, Bozer: meet the Boz.”

Murray blushed at that: “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too!” Riley beamed. “I've got so many questions!”

“Me too,” Bozer said. “From the Boze to the Boz. And we both got an awesome robot, which can't be a coincidence!”

“Roboz,” Murray said. “Meet our new friends, Riley and... is it Bozer or Boze?”

“Either's good,” Bozer said, dazed.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Riley, Mister Bozer slash Boze,” the Roboz said politely, which had Riley snigger. “You should introduce him to Sparky,” she said.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Director Webber said pointedly, looking amused, “the Phoenix will of course reimburse you for any expenses you may have had-”

“Forget it,” Cody and Nick said in unison.

Smiling, she continued: “And we'll gladly see to any repairs your helicopter may require.”

“That,” Nick said, relieved, “I'd like to accept.”

Webber inclined her head: “Sure. You were vital not only in saving Mac's life but also in the arrest of one of the most sought-after criminals out there. Now we can properly charge him and dig into all his enterprises. He won't get out of that one.”

“Why did he abduct Mac at all?” Cody asked.

“He's friends with another one of those low-lifes, a guy who's in prison but who put a prize on Mac's head. Mac's indirectly responsible for the dissolution of his drug cartel. So Franklin thought it'd be a great way to avenge his pal by abducting Mac, forcing him to build a bomb which was supposed to destroy a major federal agency, and then killing him. Luckily, Mac escaped and you found him.”

“Wow,” Nick rubbed his neck. “I'm sorta glad we didn't know all this before.”

“I didn't even know those people had friends,” Cody quipped.

They grinned.

“Seriously- we are more than grateful,” Webber then said gravely. “If we had lost Mac, I think we would have lost the entire team.” She glanced at the others, then her gaze strayed over to Jack.

“He his dad?” Nick asked in an undertone.

A smile slowly spread on Director Webber's face at that: “In all but in blood,” she replied softly.

Nick nodded: he could relate to that.

Cody was relieved to see the Riptide undamaged when they returned home later that day. The Mimi was staying at the Phoenix while they were repairing the damage from the bullets, but they were planning on going back there to visit Mac anyway.

Caitlin, Murray, Cody and Nick sat down on the fantail with a beer that night: “I can see now why you kept up the agency for so long,” Caitlin said. “It's fun!”

The others shared a look: “Getting shot at on a regular basis however does get old after a while,” Cody then said. “You have no idea how many bullet holes this old boat's got.”

“No, she doesn't,” Murray said through his teeth. “On purpose!”

“Dad- I'm 29!”

“Right. I sometimes forget.”

Grinning, Cody raised his beer: “At least there's one thing we can say for sure: we still got it.”

“Hear, hear,” Nick said, and they all clinked their bottles. “To the Riptide Detective Agency.”

When Nick and Cody were getting ready for bed that night, earlier than usual because they were rather tired, Nick's phone pinged.

It was a message from Jack, including a picture.

Nick opened it and smiled as he showed it to Cody: it was a selfie of Jack and a visibly still groggy Mac in his hospital bed; he had a nasal cannula, was bleary-eyed and looked as pale as before, but the corners of his mouth were quirking upwards.

“He's gonna be fine,” Nick read, feeling relieved.

“Tell him we're glad,” he texted back. “Gonna drop by tomorrow. Good night.”

After relaying Nick's message, Jack put his phone away, proudly smiling at Mac: “Seems like you made some new friends,” he said.

Mac considered this: “They were awesome,” he murmured. “Funny that you actually know them.” Talking was easier now, despite the fact that his overall condition had indeed gotten worse because he'd developed pleurisy, which meant that the membranes surrounding the lungs were inflamed; he now had a chest tube that was draining excessive fluids out of his lungs and was receiving heavy-duty painkillers, anti-inflammatory drugs and antibiotics now that the blood tests had shown that the other drugs were mostly out of his system. It rendered him a little loopy, but at least he wasn't so addleheaded anymore.

His memory was also coming back; he knew who he was and what he was doing for a living, and, most importantly, who the people around him were. The doctor told him that it might have been the shock which had led to the amnesia; Mac still couldn't remember everything, he was for example drawing a blank at what he'd been doing on the days before the abduction, but he was assured that it was going to come back, just as the rest. For now, he only wanted to sleep, which was just as well: he simply couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. Jack was actually glad that Mac wasn't able to recall the whole matter yet: he needed the rest, and the memory of his time aboard the Vent Du Midi probably wasn't a good one.

“You gonna stay?” Mac slurred. Bozer and Riley had just left, both of them dead on their feet.

Jack reached for his partner's hand, carefully wrapping his own around it: “Course I'm gonna stay,” he said. “Now that I got you back.”

Mac hummed in response and tightened his hold on Jack's hand.

Jack regarded the kid: funny indeed. He was ever so grateful that it had been Nick and Cody who'd found the boy; it meant that he'd been in good hands, and safe hands at that. It could have ended so much worse... Jack ran his free hand over his face. He didn't even want to think about it.

On the following afternoon, Nick, Cody, Murray and Caitlin were being led into the infirmary by Matty: “This is becoming quite the party,” she said, because Bozer and Riley were there as well. Jack had finally gone home for some shut-eye and freshening up, promising to be back in the evening.

The nurse on duty regarded the visitors: “Not for too long, please,” she said. “Mr. MacGyver needs rest.”

“Bozer and I gotta get back to work anyway,” Riley said, nudging her friend.

“Yeah,” he said. “Mr. Bozinsky- pleasure to meet you again!”

“Call me Murray, please,” Murray said. “Or Boz.” He grinned, fishing a card out of his shirt pocket: “Here's my contact data, if you've got any more questions. Or would like a tour of Boznetics HQ. Your robot is very promising, after all, I think it might interest you!”

Bozer stared at it open-mouthed. “Thanks,” he muttered. “See you!”

“Yeah, see you later,” Riley waved at everyone and pulled Bozer with her.

“Hey,” Nick had meanwhile approached the bed, smiling at the kid: “You're not looking half-dead anymore!” In fact, a little bit of colour had returned, and now that the fever was gone, Mac was less pallid altogether.

He returned the smile: “Thanks,” he said gravelly. “Good to see you.” It was good to hear that speaking seemed easier for him now.

“Good to see you too,” Nick said softly. “We're glad everything turned out okay.”

“Me too.” Mac regarded him; Jack had told him how Nick had been there for him, back when he hadn't quite known what to do with his life; if it wasn't for this guy, Jack probably wouldn't have joined the air force to learn how to fly, meaning he and Mac probably would never have met. Inconceivable. And he was just glad that Jack had had someone to turn to when his own father simply didn't have the time, because that was important. People who listened and made you feel loved; who helped you by just being there. Like Bozer had done for him.

“Thank you for everything,” he albeit just said; he wouldn't have known how to put the other stuff into words, or if it was his place at all to do so. “For saving my life... Providing shelter... Risking your own lives for me.” He paused. “Making me feel safe.”

Nick shrugged, rubbing his neck to hide how touched he was: “Seemed the right thing to do.”

“Well,” the corners of Mac's mouth were quirking up. “Other people would simply have called the Coast Guard and be done with it.”

“Yeah... We've never been like other people,” Nick conceded, mirroring Mac's amused expression. “But then, the same thing applies to you, from what I gather.”

Mac blushed a little.

“Cody told me how you fixed the rifle with a paper clip.” Nick inclined his head. “If it hadn't been for that... we'd probably not have managed to bring the other chopper down.”

Mac, who only had a very hazy recollection of the most recent events, grinned: “Glad to be of help. I really don't like feeling useless.”

They chuckled. “You gonna visit us from time to time once you're out of here?” Nick then asked.

“Definitely.” Mac held out his hand. “I'm MacGyver, by the way.”

Nick shook it: “Nick Ryder.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

“Same here.”

Smiling at each other, they held on for a moment longer.

That evening, Cody sat in the galley and watched Nick making aglio marinato in una salsa di succo di limone.

On their way home, they had stopped at a market to buy some provisions, since they were planning on going on their previously aborted fishing trip on their following day; Murray was going to come along as well.

“He's bringing the Roboz,” Cody said. “Said something about using sonar.”

“Sonar?”

“Yeah. The same kind he sold to that sheikh who's looking for Nessie.”

“Promise me one thing,” Nick said.

“Hm?”

“If by any chance we do find a sea monster- can we please go fishing anyway before we return to the harbor and get rich and famous?”

Cody, who was really looking forward to the lemon juice sauce, grinned: “Deal.”

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm not a Native Speaker, therefore I apologize for any mistakes.
> 
> The events around "El Noche" refer to S01e07.
> 
> Furthermore, I did lots of research, but the medical content may still be wildly inaccurate. 
> 
> In canon, Nick and Cody are not together (though, watching the show, one really wonders why), but in my headcanon, they've been since the 1970s. I'm putting their age at 69 and 71 respectively.  
> Ahoy the "Riptide Gang": sorry for not posting anything for so long. What time I had for writing was spent on this one. It's still slow-going, but I'm still alive. Hope you're well!


End file.
